Fellow Citizens of Collier County, and Future Generations,
There are moments in the life of a community when decisions transcend the standard debates of policy and procedure and tap into the deeper roots of who we are—our identity, our values, and the moral compass that guides us. The Collier County Commission’s recent 4-1 vote to approve the display of the Ten Commandments—alongside the Declaration of Independence, the Bill of Rights, the Preamble to the Florida Constitution, and the Star-Spangled Banner—was one such moment. The Ten Commandments is right up there with hot dogs, Chevrolet, and apple pie as far as I can tell when you talk about being an American.
In this historic decision, our commissioners—save one—chose courage over caution, conviction over convenience. They took a stand not for theocracy, but for truth, tradition, and a return to the foundational values that shaped this nation and underpin its laws. And for this, they deserve not scorn but applause.
Let’s set the record straight: the Ten Commandments are not merely religious artifacts; they are moral guideposts that have informed Western law, ethics, and civic order for millennia. From “Thou shalt not kill” to “Thou shalt not steal,” these principles are not controversial—they are common sense, common decency, and common ground. Hell the 10 commandments is the base of all law in the U.S. in my opinion.
To claim they are solely religious in nature is to ignore their role as historical anchors of justice and behavior. These are not dogmas requiring conversion, but ideals worthy of contemplation—by believers and nonbelievers alike. When Commissioner Chris Hall emphasized that this proposal “had nothing to do with religion,” he wasn’t denying their spiritual origins; he was recognizing their civic value in a pluralistic society. In fact, If you see Commissioner Hall at the bar buy him a few; just make sure you don’t go over the $100.00 gift limit.
We are not talking about establishing a state church or mandating worship. We are talking about framed words on a wall, presented among other formative texts, in a historical context that seeks not to convert, but to educate and inspire. The critics cry “separation of church and state,” but it’s clear: this is not about building a church in the courthouse. It’s about reminding us of a moral heritage we have too long neglected.
Commissioner Burt Saunders—though a man of evident integrity—voiced concerns over favoring one religious tradition over another. That argument, while well-intentioned, is misplaced. The Ten Commandments, while rooted in Judeo-Christian teachings, are not exclusive to any sect or denomination. Their ethical principles—honesty, respect, personal responsibility—transcend doctrinal lines and resonate across cultures. In fairness to Burt; he has a right to his opinion. He better hope no opponent uses that against him in the next election.
If we are truly worried about “favoring” a tradition, then are we prepared to remove “In God We Trust” from our currency? Shall we strip the Pledge of Allegiance of “One Nation Under God”? Will we stop swearing witnesses in with the phrase “so help me God”?
At some point, this ideological paranoia turns absurd. The public square is not a religion-free zone. It is—and always has been—a place where the values of a community can be expressed, displayed, and reflected upon. Opponents argue that this display is “dangerous.” I submit to you that what is dangerous is the relentless erasure of our cultural inheritance under the pretense of neutrality.
Commissioner Bill McDaniel wisely observed that at the core of this issue is freedom—the freedom of elected officials like Commissioner Hall to bring forth ideas on behalf of their constituents, and the freedom of the public to agree or disagree, to look or look away.
And that’s the heart of it: choice. No one is forced to read the Ten Commandments on a wall. No one is coerced to believe in them. But we, as a community, have a right to display them, and in doing so, to reclaim public space for public values.
Let’s not pretend this is a legal Armageddon. The Supreme Court has already ruled that such displays, when presented with other historical documents—as is the case here—are constitutionally permissible. County Attorney Jeffrey Klatzkow confirmed that there is no legal violation if the display is structured properly. And it will be.
So, to those threatening lawsuits: is this really about law, or is it about ideology?
In today’s crazy world—where violence is rising, truth is twisted, and our children are bombarded by confusion from every angle—what’s so wrong with reaffirming basic principles of decency?
Do not lie. Do not steal. Do not murder. Do not covet what others have. Respect your parents. Honor your commitments. Be truthful. Be humble. Live with reverence for something greater than yourself.
These are not radical ideas. They are reminders of how to live in harmony with others and ourselves. They are stabilizing truths in a time of social turbulence. As resident Brian Hunter shared in a heartfelt testimony, seeing the Ten Commandments as a child gave him a sense of stability, even though his family wasn’t religious.
This is about offering that same moral ballast to future generations.
SPOILER ALERT: Inclusivity Does Not Mean Cultural Amnesia!!!!!!!
Some opponents have claimed that displaying the Ten Commandments excludes other faiths. But inclusion does not require erasure. We don’t become more tolerant by obliterating our traditions. We become more tolerant by understanding where we came from, and extending respect to others without abandoning our own foundations.
Immigrant resident Jacqueline Roque De Escobar said it best: “You don’t go into someone’s home and change the foundation of that home just because you want to.” America is a home with a foundation—imperfect, evolving, but rooted in ideals that have stood the test of time. We must never apologize for that.
Let’s remember that freedom of religion does not mean freedom from religion’s influence on our culture, our laws, or our civic institutions.
Commissioner Hall did not expect this proposal to cause controversy. But great ideas rarely emerge without resistance. What matters is that he stood firm, even when ridiculed. When one opponent sarcastically suggested he be named “Christian of the Year,” it was not only disrespectful—it was revealing. In the name of tolerance, some critics have become intolerant of anyone who dares express faith, conviction, or reverence.
But the Commission stood tall. So did the residents—like Pamela Cunningham, who rightly asked why anyone would fear what the Ten Commandments stand for. Or like Jerry Rutherford, whose passionate plea reminded us that law and morality must be grounded in more than preference or fashion—they must be rooted in timeless truths.
Some say this issue is a “distraction.” From what? From real problems like crime, division, corruption? The Ten Commandments address those very problems—at their moral root.
Commissioner Rick LoCastro made it clear: this is not about the school board or indoctrinating children. This is about appropriate public spaces, chosen deliberately, not saturating every hallway or forcing belief. This is about choice, not compulsion; education, not evangelism.
The greatest threat to Collier County isn’t a display of the Ten Commandments. It’s the erosion of the values they represent.
And when history looks back on this moment, will it see fear or faith? Silence or conviction? Will it see elected officials willing to stand for the moral compass that helped guide a young republic into greatness?
Thanks to Commissioners Hall, McDaniel, LoCastro, and Kowal, it will see courage. And thanks to thousands of residents who spoke up, wrote in, and defended this proposal—not to dominate, but to preserve—it will see a community that remembered where it came from, and chose not to forget.
This is not the end of a debate, but the beginning of a recommitment—to teaching, to truth, and to the virtues that define the best of who we are. In a world thirsty for meaning, may these framed words offer a wellspring of wisdom.
May Collier County be an example —not of religious imposition—but of historical honesty, moral clarity, and unapologetic tradition.
Respectfully and proudly,
McKinley G. Williams, Publisher
The SWFL CHRONICLE
